


Celebrate

by Ursula



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Established Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-17
Updated: 2006-01-17
Packaged: 2019-02-05 14:36:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12796563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ursula/pseuds/Ursula
Summary: A snippet that may lead to a longer story. Alex and Walter undertake a dangerous journey to bring the Lone Gunmen to Washington in a post apocalyptic world. Trapped in a shelter, Alex and Walter celebrate Alex's birthday.





	Celebrate

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Haven, the archivist: This story was originally archived at [Fandom Haven Story Archive (FHSA)](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Fandom_Haven_Story_Archive), was scheduled to shut down at the end of 2016. To preserve the archive, I began working with the OTW to transfer the stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. If you are this creator and the work hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Fandom Haven Story Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/fhsa/profile).

  
Author's notes: Written for Peach in May of 2005  


* * *

Celebrate!

Skinner/Krycek

 

 

My eyes felt gritty when I woke up. It was technically impossible for there to be dust in my eyes, but I felt as if I had slept on a beach. I lifted my hands to rub my eyes, still feeling a faint thrill when both hands responded. I yawned and shivered.

 

 

The blanket fell away from me. I was chilly. Something was wrong with the air conditioning; we hadn't been able to set it down a few notches. It was fine during the day, but at night, the natural drop in temperature made for a constant forty-eight degrees, just cold enough to make you need blankets and body warmth to sleep well.

 

 

Over the week we had been trapped in this shelter, I slept well and warm. Walt's a regular furnace and he likes to wrap around me. Waking up without him was a real bitch; I guess I'm getting spoiled. I grumbled to myself as I slowly got up. Where was my lover? We had a ritual...waking together after sleeping, wrapped up in each other. I swear God made his furry torso to be the perfect fit for me. He always kissed me, neither of us caring about the perils of morning breath. Walter was big and warm. His arms around me were the only safety I had ever known and the closest to paradise I ever expect to get.

 

 

Langly was manning the monitors. He still looked a little strange without his glasses, but the laser surgery to correct his sight was necessary. It wasn't a good idea to be dependent on any artificial aids in our brave new world.

 

 

"Morning," I said.

 

 

"Hey, Alex," Langly replied.

 

 

"Any change?" I asked.

 

 

"Nope, the assholes are still rumbling around up there," Langly said.

 

 

I grunted, annoyed. Super Soldiers gone, the Oiliens as inert as any other fossil fuel...it should have been a piece of cake cleaning up the rest of the mess the Project and the aliens had left us. That however didn't account for human stupidity. The biggest problem we

currently had was not cleaning up the hybrids that hadn't died when we released the antivirus that killed those pure of blood. No, the problem was marauding armies of human scavengers.

 

 

I have to admit that I'm deeply embarrassed that Walter and I were pinned down here with Mulder's Lone Gunmen. The trio of geeks had been hiding here since I helped them fake their deaths so the real work of resistance could start. The problem was that as of a couple of weeks ago, we needed them back in Washington to help us decode computer programsthat would allow us to restore thousands of abducted children to their families or at least, to contact the children's relatives before making adoption plans for them. The data was all in the project computers, but the coding was incredibly complex. It called for the kind of kung fu that only the terrific trio had.

 

 

Walt and I didn't need to fetch the Gunmen personally. In fact, Scully had lectured us for an hour for taking the risk. Mulder had stood up for us, understanding my need to go some place after the long claustrophobic siege of Washington. Walt, of course, just wanted

to be with me. Made me feel warm inside, thinking about that.

 

 

I guess we expected the trip to Moosehead, Maine to be a honeymoon of sorts. God knows, all we had during the war were frantic bouts of lovemaking in between times when both of us were so exhausted we

could barely wait to put arms around each other before sleep slammed into us like a freight train.

 

 

So our milk run had started nicely enough. We had stopped at a group of cabins along the way, our armed contingent happy enough to grab fishing poles and enjoy fresh caught trout.

 

 

Walter and I only emerged from the cabin once during the two-day break. We went to the lake and fished, each of us catching a fat brook trout. The real feast however was back in our cabin.

 

 

I had my preferred taste sensations...Walt's flat nipples, half buried in the fur on his chest, his cock, thick and hard in my mouth, and my third favorite treat, that place at the side of his throat where I could feel him rumble and purr when I sucked on it. I really

love that man, love him with a whole-hearted, intense passion that surprised and frightened me at times. It's a miracle. All that pain, that angry hurtful dance had ended in this, two warriors who could touch each other without pain and with an endless delight.

 

 

We made love most of the first day. The second day we fished, rested, held each other, and, finally, in the afternoon spent almost four hours exploring every inch of each other. I kissed my Walter's scars. Mine

are gone, erased by the rebel's careful rebuilding of my shattered body. I'm as unmarked as an infant. They even took the lines from my face. That pissed me off. I shouldn't look like this, all too young, fresh faced, the picture of the young agent that seduced his AD.

Walter doesn't mind, but then he didn't mind my body when it was a one-armed catalog of a life filled with hardship. The truth is he loves me. He adores my body. He loves how I make love, but, most importantly, he embraces all of me, the mistakes, the tragic

misunderstandings, the flights of stupidity where ambition had misled me, and the determination from the time I stood up against the Project to fight.

 

 

Walt's a great man. People already tell stories about the rest of us. Mulder was praised and I think he deserves it. He fought the good battle almost alone for many years. Scully...well, she would hate me

for saying so, but the remaining Catholics want to make her a saint.

 

 

And, of course, you can't forget the Lone Gunmen, sheer proof that heroes don't always come in conventional form.

 

 

I've heard people say that I am the modern Prometheus, who suffered to bring knowledge to humanity. I think that's a load of bullshit. I'm not God and I didn't have noble motives for most of the things

I've done.

 

It pisses me off even more that my Walter is hardly mentioned. They don't get it. Walt's the one that held us together. He had the discipline and the perseverance to keep us moving in the right direction when Mulder and I faltered. He's the one who knows how to build a team out of individuals who aren't team players. We couldn't have won the war without Walter and we certainly wouldn't be still patiently trying to rebuild our civilization.

 

My idea was that we take out the Super Soldiers, make sure the Oiliens and all their relatives pack up and mark earth off their list of potential meat farms, and then Walter and I would go to some tropical island and screw for the rest of our lives.

 

 

I was disappointed when Walt gave me a long-suffering look and told me that the work wasn't done yet. It was another one of those times when Mulder and I felt exactly the same. Walter reamed us both out and told us that we could leave if we wanted, but he was staying to finish the job.

 

 

Neither Mulder nor I care to be called quitters. We stayed and I've resigned myself to the job of straightening out the mess that is left.

 

 

Walt's point was well taken when we started back for Washington with our trio of wise men. The hoard of predators swept up on our convoy like a plague of locusts. They rode an army of Harley hogs and were

equipped with machine guns. It was the biggest, best armed, and most organized mob of scavengers we've encountered so far.

 

 

They didn't quite get that our convoy was not some fat and easy prey. We had to retreat in front of their numbers, but it was an organized retreat. I knew about this project hidey-hole and it was near enough

to be strategic. We had a few losses and I'll grieve each one, but the bulk of us, fifty strong, made it into the shelter.

 

 

If anyone had made it in here when the war broke out, they had left after the fighting stopped. I think someone was here as the stores of food are somewhat depleted. We could still live twenty or thirty years on what's left, but I can't say I would have enjoyed the menu. It's all field rations and reconstituted food all tastes like play dough to me. In fact, if I remember right from my childhood, play dough tastes better.

 

 

Thank God that there's coffee. I made my way to the cafeteria, hoping that Walt was there.

 

 

My lover was in the kitchen and there was the most amazing smell coming from there. I think it was cake. Damn! I walked in, finding Walt with an apron around his waist. I walked into his embrace, offered my lips for a kiss...and another...and...Walt had to stop before we ended up screwing on the kitchen floor. We're a little too dignified for that these days ...which sucks.

 

 

The top of the stove held pancakes. Real pancakes. Sitting on the counter, there were three huge cans of peaches. My eyes lit up and I reached for a spoon.

 

 

"No," Walter said. "That's for later."

 

 

"What later?" I asked, finding myself grouchy again.

 

 

"I'm making peach upside down cakes," Walter said.

 

 

Just then, Langly wandered in, waving a small box. "Found 'em."

 

 

"Oops," Langly said, trying to hide the box.

 

 

I grabbed the item and found exactly what I suspected, a box of birthday candles...

 

 

I can't remember the last time anyone celebrated my birthday with a cake and candles. Last year, Walt and I had been on a mission in Antarctica. He remembered it was my birthday, but there wasn't anything to do to celebrate except to zip our extreme weather sleeping bags together and fuck. It was still one of the better

birthdays I've ever had since I was Mama Georgina's favorite son.

 

 

"And I'll have those," Walter said.

 

 

"Where did the cake and peaches come from?" I asked.

 

 

"Found someone's secret stash behind some boxes of records," Langly said. "The candles were in Max's stuff. He was saving them for his next birthday, but he said that we could have them. It's his gift to you."

 

 

Max is the baby of the unit, a gawky still growing eighteen year old that Walt tells me looks like him at the same age. I believe him because there's no reason for Walt to lie, but it's hard to believe all that skinny bunch of knobs and colt like limbs will grow into a Walt.

 

 

Walt filled a plate with pancakes and then spared two peach halves from one of his cans. "For the birthday boy," he said, kissing me again.

 

When I looked up, Langly's eyes were wide, but interested. You know if Walt and I keep up these public displays of affection, we may make Ringo hit puberty yet.

 

 

After I sat down, everyone, who was not on duty, trooped into the cafeteria to eat. Max grinned from the kitchen as he shoveled pancakes on plastic trays.

 

 

I was almost finished when Frohike came running in. "Fixed the transmitter!" he yelled. "Mulder did get our last transmission. He's on his way."

 

 

Well,hallelujah !

 

 

"He'll be here in two days," Frohike announced, thrilled to be rescued by his best buddy and hero.

 

 

Langly grumbled, "I don't know what we're going to do with two more days stuck here."

 

 

I smirked and flashed Walt a glimpse of what I had found in my own scrounging expedition. Peach flavored lube to go with that peach upside down cake. I wanted to be as bottoms up as that cake within half an hour.

 

 

Walter looked at the oven as I grabbed him by his apron and dragged him toward the door.

 

 

"Someone watch the birthday cake," Walt yelled.

 

 

I heard the chorus of happy birthdays, but all my attention was on my man. Just goes to show you. You make your own luck. You make your own

happiness.

 

 

And I wish you as good fortune as I have...but only I get my Walt.


End file.
